#TOSSES HIM BACK ATCHA <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[quillheel]

@icyexecutioner // x

when the words left Shinjiro's mouth, he'd hoped that the more aggressively unwilling approach would've been enough to cause the other to withdraw, reluctant but refusing to force a hand so adamant about staying as it was, but if he were being truthful; he knew better. Mitsuru wasn't someone he ever expected his attitude to work on, like a null strike against her that while Akihiko's immunity came with time as he learned all the little quirks of his body language and the way he spoke to see through any bluff ( nearly any bluff ), Mitsuru always felt to him to be organically engineered to piss him off.

he stifles his irritation, half of it from a thousand years ago, when it was just them, when he could recognize their footsteps down the hall or clatter in the floor beneath and be able to tell who was who because it was only them, only them, and it's very hard to convince himself to be angry when a deeper exhaustion whittles at his stomach beneath it; one not from her. Nostalgia turns to nausea, an argument going for forever, and he pushes it down. ( a talent he's gotten good at. he wonders if his winning streak will break anytime soon. out of the frying pan, into the oven. )

the superior, winning tone did get on his nerves a little, though. endlessly, things were requested of him... ... Jeez, these two would be good for crime investigation, wouldn't they?

" Sometimes, you're just as stubborn as Aki... " Shinjiro sighs, snipping in that indirect way he so likes to; maybe hoping to get under her nerves. " I told you a hundred times, I'm not going back. It's not like they'd take me, anyway, so don't push your luck. "

Shinjiro hadn't been a terrible student, at least not in the years he'd actually attended. He was never as perfect as Mitsuru herself, as most were, but his grades would go toe-to-toe with Aki's. On the days he decided to stick around, anyhow. His habit of ditching had existed a long, long time, until it grew up and out and eventually he decided staying away was better than facing it head on.

Maybe he'd been a little bit right to do it, too. ━ he tries not to think about it.

" Plus, " he continues, perhaps as if it'd win him mercy, his guts in opposition of Mitsuru from so far back still holding strong even now. " The less distraction, the more I focus on fighting Shadows. That's why I'm here, remember? " ( he lies, as if it was the only reason. as if, as if. )

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

im not sure if this has been done before but... pilates princess! reader x gymbro! jason todd... mmmmm

18+

you two are total opposites but you both make it work so well. you're all girly, his little princess- all your equiment and yoga sets a pretty pink. he makes fun of you for your pink weights- but he finds it fucking adorable. he's all rough and buff, always in dark colours and lifting weights you couldn't fathom lifting if you tried. of course he was rich, so you each had your own little home studio/ spaces with all the equipment you could possibly think of. your studio was so cozy, covered in soft pinks and whites, and you had a beautiful window that overlooked the city. it was covered in plants too of course, that your cat liked to nibble on sometimes. you'd be doing moves on your reformer and with your tension bands and he'd always poke his head in and watch you. it was a little routine you had where whenever you guys took a quick break- stretch or water, you'd jog over and see what the other was doing, oftentimes (jason) would admire you in silence and just be in awe. the drastic change in music always made you giggle, but you knew jason loved your lana del rey.

watching him lift double- triple your weight made you weak in the knees, and he often made eye contact with you in the mirror with a smirk, knowing this turned you on. he'd always come over and pick you, swinging you like you were a ragdoll, making you shirek. he'd lift you up, but made it so you were turned to face the mirror, as he'd pound into you, leaving your feet to dangle in the air as he wrapped you in one arm around the waist.

"yeah baby you like that? you like watching me lift those big, strong weights- knowing i could just toss you around and do whatever i wanted with you? hm?" he'd always grunt in your ear, pressing you up against the glass.

"look at yourself in the mirror pretty girl. you take my cock so well princess, swallowing me all up. i'm all in your tummy- see?"

or when he'd come over and see you doing your stretches and he'd get so worked up from how you looked in those flare yoga pants he'd just pick you up and push you down on the reformer, yanking down your pants and just fucking you from behind, doggy style.

"sorry honey, didn't mean to interupt your workout, you just look so fuckin hot. couldn't help myself."

and he'd pound into you so hard you'd start drooling, your eyes rolled back in your head and you'd go all into subspace, calling him daddy- which would just rile him up even more.

"look atcha baby. what a mess for daddy, hm princess? such a little slut." even though he was the one who came and fucked you...

mini moodboard- pictures don't represent what reader looks like or anything!<3

[rasberrybabez]

Little Killer

Simon “Ghost” Riley, also known as the infamous serial killer Ghost. You were supposed to be his next victim, but he just can’t break a birdie like you, can he?

But you can definitely break a few of his bones.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Tags: Slight hurt/Caretaking, dom/sub relations, smut (eventually), serial killer Simon so minor gore, blood, dark humor, size difference.

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt. 3 (hopefully! ❤️)

xoxo-Razz.writes

“…ya’ needa be more careful who ya’ bring home, birdie.”

Those words. Those ten, simple little words that almost sound concerned make you drop the box of pasta on the floor.

What have you done?

Simon is already standing, and you are too. Except only one of you is moving. Simon, creeping closer. He’s in no rush, stretching and groaning as he stands from the couch, rolling out sore muscles and a few broken bones, cursing as a bandage pulls at his side.

Then he’s turning towards you.

You should run. Really, definitely, truly run. Because if that man is who you think he is, who you know he is, then you are fucked. Dead.

And you should definitely not be standing, wide eyed and bare footed in a pile of dry penne.

Simon grins.

“Cat gotcha’ tongue, birdie? Look like you’ve seen… a ghost.”

Yep, okay, running now.

You bolt, as fast as you can. Where? No idea, but you’re running for your life. Out of the kitchen, throwing open the door into the hallway, and sprinting. Panting, very close to screaming, but you can’t waste your breath. Into the bedroom, where you can throw open your window. Call the police, just shut the door-

The door flies open and yeah, you scream. Forget saving your breath, you won’t have any when he slits your throat like-

“Calm down, birdie…”

His voice is deep as you run to the window. Simon isn’t running, following you across the small room with heavy footsteps, and a steady pace. No rush, he knows you can’t outrun him. He knows that you can’t get the window open fast enough, because you can’t. Damn thing won’t budge.

You’re panicking, breathing starting to speed up, hyperventilating as your panicked hands pound against the glass. The metal frame starts to budge, and your fists ball up, trying to force it open. Stupid fucking small and tight windows-

Large hands wrap around your wrists, and you’re yanked back.

The scream you let out is warranted.

Simon drags you backwards, your body flailing and screaming in his arms. Struggling, clawing at the thick and meaty arms that hold you, strong fingers now gripping your waist. With that many veins, you just need a few good slice of your nails, right?

Wrong.

He drags you, unaffected by the way you’re fighting, like a doll out of your room. You’re screaming, kicking, clawing and crying, desperately trying to break free. He’s tugging you back to the kitchen, hoisting you up and over his shoulder with a grunt, before tossing you onto the couch.

You yelp in surprise, momentarily shocked by the fact that this man, serial killer and all, previously hit by a car, had the decency and strength to toss you onto the couch.

Well, maybe not decency. And that thought makes you immediately scramble for the edge of the sofa, desperately reaching for something, anything.

Definitely not the hand that grasps yours, pulling you back onto the couch.

“Calm down, bird… yer’ makin a mess of yerself.”

You freeze, eyes snapping up to the man who’s holding your hands in his. Dwarfed by the scarred, thick fingers that enclose yours, gingerly moving you back onto the couch. You’re scared, because what the fuck is this guy playing at? Toying with you before he kills you? Teasing your heart just to make sure you have a heart attack before dying?

He scoffs at the confused and still scared expression on your face.

“Look atcha’ birdie… all flushed n’ cute like that. You’re gonna wear yerself into a tizzy if ya keep it going… take a breath. Can’t have ma’ pretty bird passin out on me.”

You swallow, but do as he says, taking in a shaky breath. There’s something about his voice, too sweet. Too condescending, undercut with that rough demand you don’t dare try and ignore, especially not from a serial killer.

He takes a step forwards, chuckling, running his hand down the side of your face, a breadth away. You still shiver, flinching a little bit. His hand grabs your chin more aggressively, snapping your neck to the side to look at him. No more chuckling, no more smiles no matter how sinister.

His eyes are dark, his glare hardened as he bends down to meet your eyes, lips centimeters apart. And God, they are beautiful lips… soft pink and plush, like the only unblemished part of his flesh. No scars and no marks, imagine how soft it would be if you just-

No, no no? What are you thinking! Serial killer, serial killer, serial killer that wants to kill you-

“Ya know how long I tracked ya down, birdie? Kept tabs on yer car and yer schedule to and from work… had to make sure you were perfect for me… next perfect little lass for my collection…”

He leans down, closer to your ear, lips brushing I to crest and trailing down to your neck. Not quite touching the skin, just teasing the hairs on your neck with that plush lower lip. You shiver, still trembling.

“Then imagine my surprise, little bird… when the lass I’ve been tracking’ turns around and goes and snatches up ma’ mind… can’t think of nothin’ else. Just her pretty lil skirts when she walks home from work… tiny lil top when it’s sunny out… god, birdie… you really messed up my mind, aintcha?”

You can’t breathe. Can’t speak, can’t move. He’s moving closer, the hand not on your chin moving down to your hands, thumb running over your knuckles. You wince, hissing softly at the touch. Your knuckles are bruised, a little bit bloodied from banging on your window. And with the adrenaline from earlier, it didn’t matter until he made you realize.

Made you feel something.

He tsks, and it finally snaps your gaze up. His eyes fall to your knuckles, letting go of your chin and taking your hands in his. You should be running, you should be fighting for your life. Hell, the cops should already be here, but no. Why didn’t you call police?

Why can’t you think straight around this man?

”Gone and hurt yourself birdie… now that won’t do. Can’t have any blood stainin’ those pretty little hands… leave that to me.”

You yelp a little as he tugs you forward by your waist, hands tightening as he picks you up. With a gasp, you’re thrown over his shoulder again, and he’s walking back to your bedroom. You can’t process it, the whole situation. You can’t make sense of it all.

He’s a serial killer. You were, are, for all you know, his next victim.

Then why is he pulling out the emergency kit from your bedside table? Why is he throwing you on the bed and kneeling on the floor in front of you, taking your hands in his?

“Look atcha’… all scared and confused. Like a lil baby deer, all silly lookin’. Don’t worry birdie… we’ll get ya cleaned up nice.”

You whimper as he starts to wrap your hands in bandaids, wiping down the blood with an antiseptic pad and sticking on bandages in silence. You’re trembling, and as soon as he finishes with one hand, he runs a hand over your thigh. He gives you a look, like you’re some disobedient child, but you try to stop shaking anyways.

You swallow, silence stretching over you as your ever racing heart finally starts to slow. You take in his appearance, Simon, studying his concentration on your hand. Like he’s got a one track mind, and all he cares about is fixing his pretty bird’s hands up right.

You don’t know it, but that’s exactly what he wants.

See, he really didn’t want to actually get hit by your car. When he started tracking you, mapping out his next victim, there was something about you that was… different. He normally went for loners, women with no family ties in their life. Early to mid-thirties, on the poorer side, someone nobody would miss, as sick as it is.

But you?

You were younger. Twenties, a pretty little dove compared to Simon. And sure, you were lonely. No family, not really… no boyfriend, no friends. An old flat that cost less than half of his motel rate. And yet, despite it all, you were happy.

A cheery little thing, you were. In and out of your job at the supermarket with a smile, stickers decorating your name badge. Flowers to ever woman on Mother’s Day and carrying bags out to people’s cars when your shift was over twenty minutes ago.

Because damnit, his bird was a better person than he would ever be.

But if Simon can’t fix his soul, adding a nice, pretty clean one to his life might balance it. Simon knows he doesn’t deserve you, hell it probably would’ve been better if he just slit your throat then and there. But he can’t risk tainting that pretty little neck with red. Simon doesn’t deserve you.

But a selfish man takes what he wants anyways.

So he took you. Or, well, you took him. Another reason he justifies keeping you, because technically you’re the one that took him into your house. Offered to feed him and made all his wounds look pretty with those little white bandages, his cuts all cute with the soft pink bandaids you own. He doesn’t care what bandaids he wears, because it was your pretty little fingers that put them on him.

He didn’t want to really get hit. He wanted the same routine, except this time, he’d just take you. Bring you with him and plop you down in his apartment, and hold you there until you started to like him too. Because he’d never force his bird to do something she didn’t want, so he’d just have to show her every reason to want it. Every reason to want him.

“…are you going to kill me?”

Your soft voice snaps Simon out of his trance, his eyes snapping up to you. Soft skin, soft thighs, soft everything about you. Simon was head over heels with his pretty bird, her hair mused and her face a mess of mascara and lip gloss. A wreck, a panicked little wreck like a tiny dove trying to break free.

you weren’t going to be free of him for a while.

“Kill you? Birdie, I any gonna touch a pretty little hair on your head unless ya let me. Doesn’t mean you’re gonna get away from me, I’ll just have ya keep ya until you learn to stay.”

You swallow, hard, and Simon watches the way your throat bobs. Slowly, he rises from his knees, taking a step closer to you, invading your personal space. He tilts your head up, a finger under your chin, and god those eyes… just the look in those eyes makes his cock chub in his pants. Because what would they look like full of tears? Tears of pleasure, the pleasure only he could bring to his baby bird…

“You look so pretty birdie… you like it, don’t you? You like that little feelin’… knowin it’s wrong… but you can’t help it.”

His hand moves up, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ears. He’s already looked around the house, the living room, your room. He’s seen what he needs to, he’s seen the dark romance books that you tuck away into the back corners of your shelves. The worn covers and torn pages, well loved and well read.

He knew from before his hunt started, that his little bird wouldn’t mind it eventually. She’d come around to him, he’d open her eyes to the man he is. Yeah, he’s a dirty soul. A dirty man.

But that’s the only type of man that’ll protect such a perfect, innocent little dove like her.

“Tell me, bird. What are you feeling?”

You swallow again. You shouldn’t be this turned on… Simon knows it, you know it too. The slight hum, the electric buzz between the two of you. The towering man in front of you who could snap your neck with a little twist of his wrist.

A man that for some reason, you were insanely attracted to. Insane, definitely insane.

But you look up at him nonetheless.

“…I-I feel… I feel like I-I shouldn’t want this.”

Simon grins, bending down to lean over you. Slowly, dwarfing your form, he presses you into the bed. His hands move to cage your head against the sheets, your heart spread out like a halo, like wings of a dove behind your head.

“No, Birdie. Ya shouldn’t.”

And with that, his lips crash to yours.

[dionnaea]

I hope this isn’t too specific! Kenny Ackerman meeting up with a soldier - a friend, acquaintance, or just someone who’s somehow on decent terms with him - and while chatting about what‘s been going on in their lives, the reader catches Kenny’s interest when they mention how a specific “newbie,” Levi, is already wrecking stuff and climbing the ranks. You can decide if reader’s in love with Levi or not! Thank you!

Pot Meet Kettle

pairing: kenny ackerman x reader (platonic), slight levi x reader

warnings: mild swearing, alcohol consumption

wc: 1.3k

a/n: this is definitely more focused on the relationship between kenny and y/n, so i hope that’s okay! it just turned out to be so fun to write their interactions. thanks for the request, and if you are ever interested in more of a background story for kenny and y/n, i’d be totally down! 

anon! i’d love to hear your thoughts! <3

attack on titan masterlist  |  general masterlist

Yeah, sure, it wasn’t very ladylike to get in a bar fight at 3 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of a wealthy district, but the guy deserved the punch you threw. As soon as he made the choice to place a dirty hand on your ass and squeeze, it was over for him. 

As soon as you felt the foreign touch, you reeled around, arm thrown back. Your back heel lifted as you pivoted, rotating your torso and moving your arm forward, calling on your years of Survey Corps training. A punch was second nature to you. When a resounding crack echoed throughout the room, you knew you had broken his jaw. You returned to a neutral position, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your reddening knuckles, and gave the guy a sickly sweet grin. He hesitantly met your eyes, cupping his already bruising and swollen jaw with one hand. Your expression was an unspoken threat, and the guy quickly cowered away, throwing a few coins on the counter and scurrying out of the bar. You rolled your eyes with a sigh, swinging around to head towards the seat at the counter you had originally been approaching. 

“Y/N.” 

You would recognize that deep, lazy drawl anywhere. 

His hat shaded his eyes, one foot kicked up onto the table with a complete disregard for general hygiene or respect, the spur on his heel digging into, and subsequently scratching, the worn out wood. His laid back posture presented no threat, but you knew anyone else would be terrified to approach him. Heck, even the barmaid looked nervous as she set his whiskey down in front of him. You, on the other hand, felt no fear towards the man, and gave him a bright grin, making your way over to his table. 

“Kenny! It’s been too long, my friend,” you expressed, pulling out the chair across from him with your foot and taking a seat, placing an order with the server on your way. “What’re you doing in these parts?” It was curious to see an underground rogue like himself up top, especially in the inner districts. 

“Nothing too interesting,” he replied, obviously being vague on purpose. “What about you? A Survey Corps Squad Leader in Wall Sina? Must be something going on.”

“Nothing too interesting,” you shot back. You knew it was unwise to reveal Survey Corps information to a man like Kenny Ackerman, especially anything classified. He chuckled, tilting his head back so that you could finally see his eyes. They were a piercing grey, and happened to remind you of a fresh recruit. Your drink was placed on the table, and you took a sip, enjoying the burn of the alcohol and waiting for Kenny to speak. 

“As mysterious as ever, Y/N. You never change.” He was joking with you, and you laughed.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. Can’t ask for information without giving some in return, not even for an old friend like you.” You weren’t proud of it, but on occasion, you had served as an informant for the man. Just small things about the Corps here and there to help him with his own business. Nothing that would hurt anyone involved… you were pretty sure, at least. 

He nodded in agreement, and took a large swig of his drink. “Here’s what I can tell you, then,” he started, and you leaned forward a bit, interest piqued. “The nobility is getting restless when it comes to the Corp. There’s a chance you might be shut down.”

You blinked before frowning. “That’s always the case, though, isn’t it? No one is ever happy with our work.” It was true: the Survey Corps was never really appreciated, and there were often murmurs of it being dissolved. 

“They’ve approached the royal court about it, Y/N. It’s more serious than you think.” That had never happened before, and you worried the inside of your lip. “They want results from your next expedition.” 

Your whole body language changed as a smirk grew on your face, and you leaned back into your seat. “Oh, they’ll get ‘em.” Kenny hummed as a sign for you to continue. “We’ve got this new recruit, you see. Terrible attitude, listens to no one, not even his superiors, and takes absolutely no shit from anyone.” You paused. When you next spoke, your voice was lower. “...Best fighter I’ve ever seen, though. Handles the swords like they’re an extension of his body, and maneuvers like he was born to fly. Never seen anything like it.” You shook your head, thinking back to the young man. He had quickly beaten almost everyone in the Corps in hand-to-hand combat and practice stats, and was flying up the ranks. A prodigy at it’s finest. 

Kenny moved his leg off of the table slowly, and removed his hat, revealing his rugged features. You had never seen such an expression of interest on his face before. “What’s his name?” He asked.

“Levi,” you responded, and missed the way Kenny’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Short little bastard. Barely 5’3”. If you can get past that, though, he’s a looker. Thick, dark hair, tired eyes, chiseled jawline. I’m definitely not complaining when we spar.” You chuckled, half joking and half serious. 

Kenny finished off his drink with one large gulp. “Sounds like you got a crush, kitten.” 

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Only he could get away with calling you that, and he knew it. “Nah. Just a fascination at this point,” you admitted. You really were fascinated by Levi; you had never seen a man like him before. He exuded an energy you could never quite place your finger on. “He’s apathetic as hell, not one for a relationship. Also, I’m pretty sure he has daddy issues, and I can’t deal with that.” 

Kenny shrugged, a slight smirk accompanying it. “You’ve always liked a challenge. Dear ol’ Y/N, repairing the broken-hearted.” He placed a hand over his heart, and you let out a breathy laugh at his dramatics. As far as you knew, he only behaved this way around you, and you were thankful he trusted you after years of getting to know him. 

“You only say that ‘cause I fixed your broken heart. I don’t do that for just anyone, y’know.” You gave him a small, genuine smile, and his lips curled up in return, dropping his hand from his chest to grab his hat. 

“Yeah, I know,” he responded. He stood up, tossing a few bills on the table. “Your drink’s on me. See ya ‘round, kitten.” He placed his hat on his head with practiced ease, tipping it in your direction. 

You brought two fingers up to your right temple, brushing them out towards him in a playful salute. “Farewell, my friend. Don’t go getting into too much trouble.” 

“Hah,” he scoffed. “You’re the last person allowed to tell me that.” You waved him off with a knowing grin. Straightening his hat once more, he said, “Right back atcha. Next time I see you, I better not be getting news I’m an uncle to some Levi Jr.” 

You flicked him your middle finger. “Screw you, Kenny. Go back to your cowboy fantasies.” It was completely a jest, just as his comment was, and he let out a guffaw. 

“I’m going,” he told you, the last of his laughs dying out. “Stay safe.” He was serious now, his words holding a weight that hung dreadfully in the air. 

“You, too,” you replied, the same heaviness in your own words. At that, Kenny turned and headed towards the exit. The last thing you heard was the clicking of his spurs against his heels and the closing of the door, marking the end of yet another pleasant conversation between friends.

[sidras-tak]

beej and lydia stay married, no romo

I love lesbian!Lydia as much as the next person with functioning brain cells and good taste, but I also kind of love aroace!Lydia who is perfectly content to be conveniently married to Beetlejuice because there are some pretty fun perks to it, even without any romance or anything. (Obviously, this is a platonic fic, please do not tag as ship!)

-

Lydia, a senior in high school and stressed out of her mind, summoned Beetlejuice in the middle of the night. He yawned. “Lyds, if you summon me at 3 am one more time, I’m taking away your summoning privileges.”

She waved an unconcerned hand. “Forget about that. Are we still married?”

His face scrunched up. “Technically, yeah.”

“Great,” Lydia said. “If I’m married, I get way more financial aid for college. Especially since your income is zero. Makes us look poorer.”

“Hell yeah, cheat that system!” Beetlejuice cheered.

Lydia smiled and stretched, looking up from her laptop for the first time in hours. There was a glint of mischief in her eye. “Do you think I can claim the sandworm as a dependent?”

-

Lydia came armed and ready to this family reunion, and it was a good thing, too, because Aunt Margery came swooping in for the kill nearly as soon as she caught sight of Lydia. Lydia endured twenty minutes of prodding questions before Margery said, “Oh, and I nearly forgot: I met the nicest boy a few days ago. Perfect for you—you simply must let me introduce you!”

Lydia fished around in her pocket for the wedding ring she kept there for this express purpose, slipping it on discreetly. “Oh, Auntie,” she said with mock sincerity. “Didn’t you hear? I got married.”

Margery gasped, “No! Why haven’t I met him?”

Lydia put a hand to her heart dramatically. “Tragically, my husband died shortly afterwards. I know he’d want me to stay faithful to him, though.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” Margery sighed.

“Quit telling people I’m dead,” Beetlejuice complained, invisible to everyone but the Deetzes.

“Sometimes I can still hear his voice,” Lydia said, wiping a fake tear from her cheek.

-

“Lydia,” Beetlejuice said solemnly, hat in hand. “I’m cheating on you.”

Lydia gasped and tossed aside her book. “Say it’s not true! How could you?”

“I know,” Beetlejuice said, throwing an arm across his eyes. “Alas, my bootycalls were too sexy for me to resist their siren call. Don’t worry, it’s been going on for a long, long time.”

“Who? Who stole you from me?” she cried, leaping to her feet. She shook Beetlejuice by the shoulders. He clasped her wrists with his hands to stop her.

“Adam,” he admitted. He paused for dramatic effect. “And Barbara.”

“Betrayed by my own parents!” Lydia sobbed. She collapsed on the couch, shaking.

“How many times are you two going to do that?” Adam asked tiredly from across the room.

“Until it stops being funny,” Lydia said, standing up and straightening her dress. She high-fived Beetlejuice.

-

When Lydia was twenty-five, she and Beetlejuice got each other ten-year anniversary presents. She got him a mug that said “#1 husband” and had used all her artistic skills to sharpie in the word ‘dead’ between ‘1’ and ‘husband’. He got her a shirt that said “world’s best no-longer-a-child bride”. It hadn’t been altered or specially ordered. She figured it had come from the Netherworld and promptly added it to her pajama collection.

“Love you, Beej. No romo,” she said.

“Back atcha, kiddo,” he said. “Now, I’m gonna go have sex with both of your ghost parents. Happy anniversary!”

“Disgusting,” she said fondly.

-

Delia was usually pretty good about letting Lydia be herself, but there were certain things Lydia was sure she would never be able to let go.

“You’re twenty-six now, Lydia. It’s time to start thinking about dating, settling down, having a family.”

“I’m still married to Beej, remember?”

“He doesn’t count! There’s no certificate! No witnesses!”

Lydia held up one finger and dug around in her backpack. She came up with a crumpled piece of paper and handed it over.

“What’s this?”

“Certificate. Witnesses include you, dad, Adam, Barbara.”

The certificate had been produced by Beetlejuice many years before, when Lydia needed to send in paperwork with her financial aid application. The “judge” who “presided” over the wedding was none other than the Right and Honorable Judge Bee T. LeJuice. Lydia had used it on many occasions and, surprisingly, it held up against examination.

“Plus,” Lydia said loftily, “The only person we know who can annul Netherworld marriages is Juno and Beej kinda murdered her. So I’m stuck with him.”

Delia sighed and said, “well, if he’s the only option, I guess I don’t mind not having grandchildren."

[keichanz]

Another Day in Hell || Ch. 5

this chapter is for @noanieactuallydrawingalot​. i still absolutely love that amazing art you drew for this story and i’m forever thankful and sooo glad you’re enjoying this story!!! <3 

also wanna give a shoutout to my girl @cammysansstuff​ because she’s been reading and supporting this story since day one and it means the world to me. <3

Read on AO3

Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 || Ch. 4 || Ch. 5

The following days were spent in a mixture of more random small talk, light banter – Inuyasha was quick to discover that Kagome was fucking feisty when riled up, and likewise Kagome learned the half-demon had a wit that nearly matched her own – and some light weapons maintenance training. Kagome sometimes went with Inuyasha when he had to leave for some reason or another, whether it be searching for supplies, killing some nuisance deadies (helpfully stabbing some that Inuyasha felled), or inspecting the store for any security breaches or evidence of any unknown presence. Most of the time, however, she stayed behind, letting her shoulder heal and doing her part to keep the space tidy.

Kagome was able to recognize the voices that came out of the radio whenever Inuyasha talked with one of his friends. Most of the time it was the ones called Slayer and Monk, though sometimes a voice that went by Cane came through. Those conversations were always interesting; it seemed that Inuyasha didn’t exactly get along with this Cane guy and they were constantly tossing insults at each other. Kagome suspected they were both purposely trying to piss the other off and while strange – and if she were being honest, somewhat childish – it was also highly amusing.

It was after a particular conversation between him and Monk in which they discussed a rogue and the issue of trusting them with a fawn (??) that Kagome had asked why had had given his real name when he met her and not his alias. Inuyasha had seemed surprised at first, but then he’d shrugged and simply said he’d needed to get her to trust him. Doubtful she would if he’d lied right off the bat and given her a false name.

She’d digested that in silence, though the smile on her face suggested she appreciated that he had, in fact, been true with her from the start.

It was getting easier to be alone now, for which she was grateful, and while she still felt some lingering anxiety whenever she paid too much attention to how long he’d been gone, it was easily manageable. To pass the time, she played cards with an old deck she’d found while sneakily nosing through the stuff Inuyasha had collected over the months. A lot of the time whenever he returned during one of her games, he’d sit down and join her and they’d have the rowdiest, loudest games of Bullshit ever.

It was tons of fun though despite it being just the two of them, and more often than not Kagome was left gasping for breath from laughing too hard.

It was the day before two of Inuyasha’s friends were supposed to show up to take over watching the store and Kagome was in the middle of a rather boring game of Solitaire when the radio crackled to life. So used to the silence of the basement during Inuyasha’s absences, she jumped in her seat with a startled gasp and snapped her gaze to stare at the device where it sat on the table in front of her.

“Ash, come in.”

She blinked. Slayer, she thought, recognizing the feminine voice. Kagome’s brow furrowed slightly; the woman had sounded slightly out of breath and a tad harried. Was everything okay?

“Ash, do you read?” Slayer’s voice came over again and Kagome detected a smidge of impatience.

She bit her lip and glanced at the ceiling door. Inuyasha had been gone for about forty-five minutes and was due back in another fifteen, however it was always unpredictable when his exact arrival would be.

“Dammit, Ash—” Slayer cut herself off with a grunt and Kagome’s frown deepened as she stared thoughtfully at the two-way. That hadn’t sounded very good at all... 

“Come back or so help me god I’ll feed all your precious ramen to the stupid zombies!”

Kagome’s eyebrows rose at the rather...unique threat and her lips twitched. Over the past few days she had also learned of Inuyasha’s fervent love – or maybe obsession was a more accurate term – for the noodles and had he been around to hear it she was fairly certain that particular threat would get his ass in gear. The man liked his ramen.

A few more seconds ticked by and the device remained silent. Kagome watched it for another five seconds before shrugging and going back to her game, figuring Slayer must have realized Inuyasha wasn’t around. Putting the five of hearts on top of the six of spades, Kagome idly wondered what had happened and hoped that it was nothing bad—

“Answer me right now, you goddamn prick!”

The shriek coming from the tiny speaker startled Kagome so badly she nearly fell out of her chair and with a gasp, she didn’t think as she reached over and snatched up the radio.

“Uh, er, h-hello?” Kagome spoke into the mic, wincing at how uncertain she sounded.

She received no response and she bit her lip before continuing a little more bravely, “Um, Slayer, right? I’m sorry, Ash isn’t around right now, but I can pass along a message if you’d like?”

She released the switch and waited anxiously, hoping the woman wouldn’t be mad that she’d answered and not the half-demon. A few seconds later the two-way crackled to life and Slayer’s voice, much more composed, came through.

“Hi,” she said amiably and Kagome relaxed. “You must be that woman Ash has told us about. Uh, yeah, I’m Slayer.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry you had to hear that...usually he picks up right away so I thought he was deliberately ignoring me. He’s done it before, usually when he’s in a mood.”

Kagome could practically hear the other woman’s eyes rolling and she couldn’t stifle the snicker that bubbled up. “I’ve only known him for a few days, but I know exactly what you mean.”

“I think we’ll get along just fine,” Slayer replied and Kagome could hear the smile in her voice. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to go. I did have a reason for contacting him and it’s kinda urgent, so could you please tell him to contact me when he gets back?”

“Of course,” Kagome returned without hesitation, frown back in place. She wanted to ask if everything was okay, but knew it wasn’t her place yet so she refrained. “He should be back in about ten minutes or so. I’ll let him know right away.”

“Thank you,” Slayer said, relief evident in her voice, but there was also an edge to it that was more than a little concerning. “It was nice meeting you...sorta.” A soft laugh floated from the speaker and Kagome echoed it.

“Ditto,” she said and the radio fell silent once more.

Worrying her bottom lip again, Kagome set the two-way on the table and sighed, staring down at the cards on the table. She’d scattered them slightly when she’d been startled from the radio suddenly coming to life so she started gathering them into a pile and stacking them back to replace into the ripped cardboard box.

She had just decided to get in a little PT for her shoulder when the ceiling hatch flipped open and Inuyasha dropped inside with a grunt. His shirt was bloody, which meant he’d had to utilize the sword at his hip – Tessaiga, if she recalled correctly – and Kagome hoped whatever he’d had to cut down was already dead.

She tipped him a smile and sat down on the bed. “Hi.”

He flicked her a glance, grunted, and promptly shed his shirt, unceremoniously dropping it to the floor before digging around for a clean one.

Kagome’s face flamed and though she told herself to look away, her eyes took in his muscled back with unveiled appreciation, catching a glimpse of his chest as he straightened to pull a t-shirt over his head. Hastily she looked away and desperately hoped he hadn’t caught her checking him out. Good lord, but the man was ripped.

“Um, Slayer needs to talk to you,” Kagome said. “She sounded a little weird, so I answered her back on the radio. She said it was urgent.”

Inuyasha frowned and picked up the two-way. “Weird, how?”

Kagome shook her head. “Like she was out of breath and, I don’t know...agitated?”

Nodding, not really liking the sound of that, Inuyasha depressed the switch and spoke into the mic, “Ash to Slayer, come in.”

Her reply was immediate. “Took your sweet time,” she quipped.

He rolled his eyes. “What happened? You said it was urgent.”

Never one to beat around the bush, Sango cut right to the chase. “Monk’s hurt,” she said and even Kagome could pick up on the concern in her voice. “We ran into a group of people that threatened to kill us if we didn’t hand over our weapons and supplies and Monk got a cut in his arm that I think needs stitches.”

“So why don’t you—”

“We ran out last week, Ash,” she cut him off, sounding impatient. “Remember? Because Cane is a fucking idiot and used the last of it so he didn’t bleed out after that stupid stunt he pulled?”

Inuyasha cursed because yeah, he remembered. “Fucking wolf,” he muttered.

“Besides,” Slayer continued, voice soft. “You’re the only one I trust to do it right. It’s Monk, Ash.”

Inuyasha closed his eyes and sighed, thrusting a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he rumbled, grimacing. “I know. Alright, fine, but Thing One and Two are gonna hafta—”

“They’re already on their way,” she interrupted and the relieved gratitude in her voice was unmistakable. “Left about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Copy. See you soon.”

“Back atcha.”

Inuyasha stared thoughtfully down at the two-way radio for a moment before shaking his head and placing it back on the dock to charge. Ginta and Hakkaku, otherwise known as Thing One and Thing Two, were the biggest scatterbrains he knew and often forgot to put it back on the dock to charge at the end of the night. At least now it would have a halfway decent charge before they carted it around everywhere.

“Looks like you’ll be meeting everyone a day early,” he said as he turned back around, one hand on his hip while the other racked through his hair. When all Kagome did was toss him a distracted smile before adopting her look of pensive concern again, Inuyasha frowned and then crossed his arms.

“What is it?” he asked. He’d gotten to know the young woman pretty well in the past few days and he could tell something was bothering her now.

Her eyes flashed to his at the question and she worried her bottom lip. He cocked a brow, wondering what it could possibly be to make her this hesitant, then she sighed and really, he should have expected what came out of her mouth next.

“Those people,” Kagome began quietly, her gaze searching his, but for what he didn’t know, “that...Slayer was talking about, who wanted their weapons. Did...were they...killed?”

Kagome didn’t fail to notice the way Inuyasha visibly tensed, and when all he did was clench his jaw and harden his stare, she had her answer.

“So,” Kagome said some twenty minutes later and tilted her head, giving him a sidelong glance as her lips twitched. “Thing One and Two?”

From where he stood by the edge of the shop’s roof, keeping a lookout for a huge black truck and straining his ears for the sound of a diesel engine, Inuyasha glanced to his right and studied the profile of the woman that stood beside him. His gaze met hers for an instant before she looked away, back toward the deadened land that surrounded them and the even deader figures that wandered it. A few of them dotted the landscape here and there, but not enough to be a concern, so they more or less went ignored.

Inuyasha’s brows dipped into a slight frown. He knew it was still bothering her. She tried to hide it behind vague smiles and forced laughter, but he could see the strain around her eyes, the way she unconsciously worried her lip and seemed to lose herself in thought. He didn’t like that she was so obviously troubled by this, and several times now he had to stop himself from reassuring her or spewing out complete bullshit just to see a genuine smile on her face again.

Because the fact of the matter was, anything he could say wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference because this was something she had to work out by herself. He knew she didn’t relish the thought of killing someone in cold blood – hell, he was willing to bet his ramen stash she was the type of person who caught insects in her house and released them back outside – but unfortunately, that was the way of the world now. You had to kill in order to survive and she was just going to have to accept that on her own terms, no matter how harsh it sounded.

Inuyasha knew she would. Kagome was strong; maybe not in body, but definitely in will and heart, and he was confident she would come around in time. And until that time finally came around, Inuyasha would be there to protect her and offer his assistance whenever necessary.

“You’ll understand when you meet them,” he finally answered, lifting a brow. “Otherwise they’re known as Smokey and Bandit.”

Kagome actually did a double take at that and her mouth dropped slightly.

“Yeah,” Inuyasha muttered, knowing exactly what she was thinking. “I know. And yes, it was deliberate. I swear to God they’re joined at the hip. Not once in the entire time I’ve known them have I ever seen them apart. Also they’re bona fide idiots.”

“Don’t be rude.”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “You’ll see,” he said and the distant rumble of a diesel engine had him turning his gaze back to the road.

Not ten seconds later he spotted the familiar black dually weaving between the abandoned vehicles on the road, the twin silver stacks rising up on either side of the cab clearly visible. The truck was lifted and altogether a motherfucking powerhouse and Inuyasha loved the thing. His own vehicle had been stolen long ago when everything started but it wasn’t a huge loss; the sedan had been on its last legs anyway and he wasn’t sorry to see it go.

This monster, however, Inuyasha had pretty much claimed as his own, everybody knew it, and he’s not going to lie: he was going be fucking devastated if something happened to it. He considered it a bonus that it was a zombie killing machine and hell yeah it was fun mowing them down with the modified grill he’d fashioned himself. Reminiscent of a pilot that was usually found on trains, the heavy steel frame easily cleared anything in front of it and it was arguably the best idea he’d ever had.

While Inuyasha raised a hand and waved, gesturing for them to drive around back to the loading dock, Kagome came up beside him and gawked at the six-wheeled monstrosity.

Inuyasha caught the look on her face and grinned proudly.

“Beauty, ain’t she?” he boasted and watched as Hakkaku, in the passenger’s seat, threw him a thumbs up as Ginta turned the wheel to go around back.

“It’s huge,” Kagome mumbled, frowning. “Is it yours?”

“More or less,” he answered and gently took her elbow to guide her to the other side of the roof. “I found it shortly after my own car was stolen, cleaned it up, made it better, so as far as I’m considered it’s mine now. Doesn’t hurt that it’s a beast and a definite upgrade from what I had before.”

The two wolves were just backing up to the loading dock and hooking an arm around Kagome’s waist, Inuyasha murmured a word of warning before hopping down to the ground. Predictably the roar of the diesel truck had attracted a number of deadies and Inuyasha told her to stay put before unsheathing Tessaiga and getting to work.

And as always, Kagome watched in awe as the half-demon darted from zombie to zombie and she couldn’t help but think that he was truly a sight to behold as he swung that huge sword of his around. Bodies fell at an alarming rate and there wasn’t a hitch in his stride, zero hesitation as he cut down the undead with a practiced ease that was almost frightening.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t he?” a voice said to her right and Kagome managed to tear her gaze away from the half-demon to find one of the inhabitants of the truck standing beside her, his gray eyes friendly.

“Don’t tell anybody, but I’ve always thought Ash can give Cane a run for his money any day,” the wolf demon said with a mischievous grin and Kagome blinked in surprise.

“Don’t let either of them hear you say that, or you’ll never hear the end of it!” another voice piped up and Kagome shifted her gaze to find wolf demon number two standing in the bed of the truck. The first thing she noticed about him was his blonde mohawk tipped with red and she thought the look suited him.

The one beside her, a tad shorter than she was with hair the same shade as his eyes and streaked with black, snickered and offered her another wide grin.

“Nah, he’s too busy showing off to hear,” he chortled and Kagome had to smile. “And Iris was bitching out Cane again when we left so doubtful he’d even care if he knew.”

“His face was so red!” Mohawk crowed as he hoped down from the bed and landed beside Gray Eyes.

“But from anger or shame, it was hard to tell!”

While the two men laughed at the expense of Cane, Kagome stood there staring between the two of them with a bewildered look on her face, not sure exactly what to say and wondering if they even remembered she was standing there. She suddenly understood why Inuyasha called them Thing One and Two.

And as if on cue, said half-demon sauntered over and barked, “Would you idiots knock it off and introduce yourselves already? Fuck’s sake, how that wolfshit puts up with you two I have no idea,” he muttered as he bypassed them and entered the backdoor to open the bay in order to load the truck.

As one the two wolf demons looked at each other, blinked, then broke into wide grins before abruptly spinning around to face her so fast Kagome took an involuntary step back.

“Our apologies, miss!” they said simultaneously and Kagome could do nothing but stand there and gape as together they took the same stance, legs akimbo with thumbs pointing at their chests, and plastered on matching, toothy grins.

“I’m Smokey, I have dimples!” the gray haired one said proudly.

“And I’m Bandit, the shrewd one!” Mohawk declared, then to Kagome’s utter bewilderment, they performed an odd sort of synchronized dance with fake fighting that reminded Kagome of a bad action film. They concluded it by striking what they probably assumed were power poses but in reality made them look ridiculous.

Well, more ridiculous.

“And together, we’re Smokey and the Bandit!” they chorused and it was glaringly obvious they thought they’re little show was original and awe inspiring.

So of course Kagome, after getting over her shock, smiled brightly and clapped as they blushed and bowed.

“I have to admit,” she started, a teasing note to her voice, “I was a bit disappointed when you didn’t roll up in a black Trans Am, but that definitely made up for it.”

The duo stared at her for a beat of silence before abruptly losing their shit, jumping up and down, talking loudly over one another and basically just acting like rabid fangirls over the fact that Kagome understood the reference and where they’d gotten the names from. She stood there with a bemused smile on her face and inconspicuously inched toward the door where Inuyasha disappeared.

The truck bay door suddenly slid open, revealing Inuyasha in all of his scowling glory as he glared at the two idiots.

“You both need to shut the hell up before you attract every goddamn roamer within a mile radius and I have to explain to Cane why you morons became zombie food while I stood by and watched. Now quit wasting time, make yourself useful and help me load the truck or so help me...”

He let the threat trail off with one last glower before turning and disappearing further into the backroom to gather supplies to take back to the dojo. Bandit grimaced and muttered an apology to Kagome before scampering after him while Smokey chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, sorry,” Smokey apologized with a sheepish smile. “It’s not often we meet people who share our love for classic films. Heh.”

Kagome giggled and waved off his apology. “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s a good movie and one of my favorites. I have to ask, though, you do realize—”

“Smokey, get your ass over here before I barbecue it in molasses!” Inuyasha bellowed and Kagome snorted a laugh.

The wolf demon scrambled to obey, tossing Kagome one last smile before scurrying over and taking the box of canned food from Inuyasha’s arms to hand to Hakkaku, making a train.

About half an hour later the truck was loaded up, Ginta and Hakkaku were standing in front of the open bay door and waving them off as Inuyasha and Kagome drove off in the monster of a truck. Inuyasha had had to lift her up into it since her arm was still healing and she couldn’t heave herself up but he hadn’t seemed to mind and in fact did it before she’d even asked.

Leaning out the open window and smiling back at her new friends Smokey and Bandit, Kagome waved one last time then leaned back in her seat with a sigh. They were definitely interesting characters and meeting them made her wonder what his other friends were like. She was especially eager to meet Slayer; it’d be nice to have a girlfriend to chat with again and maybe she’d be able to get some more information about Inuyasha from her.

“I like them,” she announced, reaching up to grasp the handle above her head as they bumped over rough terrain and ran over debris that couldn’t be avoided. “Now I know why you call them Thing One and Two.”

She giggled as Inuyasha snorted, but the grin on his face told of his amusement.

“Told you,” he said and hit the button to put up Kagome’s window. Some of the roamers were a little too close for comfort and he didn’t want one of them reaching in.

“I do have to wonder, though...” Kagome suddenly said and Inuyasha flicked her a brief glance before looking forward again.

“What?” he rumbled, managing to squeeze the massive truck into an alley that led back to the main road. A few roamers were standing around in it, but the mounted pilot took care of them, effortlessly plowing them down and clearing the way.

Kagome tilted her head and tipped him a smile, brown eyes flashing impishly.

“They do realize that Snowman was Bandit’s partner, and not Smokey the Sheriff?”

Inuyasha couldn’t stop the grin from spreading and he barked out a laugh.

“What we’re dealing with here,” he replied, shooting her a smirk as amber eyes glinted wickedly, “is a complete lack of respect for the law.”

Kagome threw her head back and laughed.

Ch. 6

a nod to one of my all-time favorite movies, Smokey and the Bandit. also that last line that Inuyasha says is a quote from the movie. Sheriff Buford T Justice, otherwise known as Smokey, says it to his (very dimwitted) son.

buy me a coffee? C:

[alostnarrator]

To Save Yourself- Chapter 8: Reconciliation

Universe: 2012

Day: 3

“I wish it was me.” Raph said suddenly, startling Leo out of the nap he was drifting off into. Leo grunted at him quizzically, not yet awake enough to properly form words. “I wish I swapped places with myself, instead of Mikey.” Raph numbly stared at the nearly finished sweater in his hands. “Did you see how that Mikey carried himself? How he bonded with Don’ so quickly… ‘wonder how nice his world is.” Raph mindlessly twirled a knitting needle in his hand. 

“I’d yell atcha’ and tell yah how stoopid that is…” Leo slurred, propping himself up on one arm to look over at Raph. “But I get it. I’ve been thinking lately… What with how Splinter reacted to… me. And how he treats you… I wish I could be sent off to some nice world.” Leo flopped back down onto his back. They both just stared at the ceiling for a while, back to the silence.

“Would you leave us behind?” Leo said suddenly. Raph laughed through his nose before seriously considering his words. 

“Yeah. Yeah I would.” And that was all. Neither turtle spoke, Raph went back to knitting. He assumed Leo fell asleep. He assumed as much, at least, until Leo rolled over again and nudged his arm. “Wazzup?” Raph watched his sibling out of the corner of his eye, but remained working. 

“I’m going to sound crazy- but just… humor me. Ok?” Raph hummed and Leo continued, “What if we… went with him. The other Mikey?” Raph finally turned to regard his taller twin, setting his needles down fully. 

“Hear me out! We could pack some stuff up. You, me, and we’d grab stuff for Mikey… Then we could talk Donnie into it…” A small smile warmed Leo’s face, but it died as quickly as it came. “Yeah right…” Again he fell onto his back. “Like he’d want us to go home with him.”

Raph couldn’t deny that the idea was tempting, freeing even, but there was no way that it would ever work. Even so, Raph couldn’t help but hope. “But what if… we tried?” He stared at his hands and felt a surge of determination go through him. 

Suddenly he stood, gathering the sweater and yarn. “Let’s do it!” He grinned, almost manically, “Let’s pack- and if we get turned down? We run! Who knows, maybe we’ll find somewhere better to live… April did mention a farmhouse out in the countryside once…” He trailed off, missing Leo’s reaction. 

“You aren’t kidding… You aren’t kidding!” His twin was practically glowing with excitement. A new adventure, an escape from someone who tore them down and made them worse versions of themselves. Leo began to mutter, trying to determine what he could live without. 

“I’ma go pack,” Raph slipped into his room, not before glancing down the hall to make sure their plans weren’t overheard. 

Raph didn’t want to bring too much. He, of course, packed Spike and his food. Next to get tossed in a box were his journals. His favorite drum sticks, some of his projects, and some smaller important items were shoved in a large duffle bag. Raph wondered how Leo would decide on what was important, his twin had so much Space Adventures merch. He saw the edge of his comics sticking out of a corner of his room. Mikey’s comics , he thought, and ice cream kitty. He also wondered if he could convince Leatherhead to join them. Probably not...

Raph finished up after one last bag. His load was nothing impossible for him to carry, so he considered it reasonable. Taking the next step into his own hands he texted Donnie.

Raph: Hey D

Raph: Donnie

Raph: Yo dorkus get to the lair. Leo’s made a decision, we want to know your opinion.

Raph sighed when he got no response. To send Mikey back, Donnie would need his lab; the purple favoring turtle had told them that much. They’d pack, and wait for Donnie to get back. To distract himself from the radio silence, Raph grabbed the cooler in Mikey’s room and silently snuck into the kitchen. 

Ice Cream Kitty meowed happily when the freezer door was opened. Once plenty of ice was inside the cooler he helped the mutant cat in. “There you go, just chill in there until we get to where we’re going.” He laughed half heartedly at his unintentional pun and moved back to his “little” brother’s room. 

Mikey’s comics, sweaters, action figures, skateboard- Raph knew they all had to come. He piled the two boxes, the bag, and the cooler in his room by his own luggage. 

“The blankets..” Raph whispered, sitting on his brother’s bed. He ran his calloused hand over the soft texture of the blanket, smiling at the memories they carried. Mikey had a total of four blankets, two Raph made, one Splinter provided, and the last was a small raggedy thing. Mikey’s favorite blanket… Raph grabbed the small one, the ones he made, and Mikey’s teddy bear. With one last look behind him Raph yoinked the t-pod off a pile of pizza boxes by the door and left. 

“You didn’t cut corners, did you?” The stout turtle could hear the smirk in Leo’s voice. Turning he saw Leo’s three bags, and a singular box. “There’s no way I’d screw over Mikey like that… We- I  have so much to make up for.” Leo placed a comforting hand on the shorter’s shoulder. 

“I know Raph… one step at a time, yeah?” They nodded at each other, both internally debating what came next. On one hand they could load up the Shell-raiser and track down Donnie, on the other they could wait it out. Raph took another look at Leo’s packing and thought of something. 

Grabbing a box he snuck his way out to the living room, anxiously listening and watching for any hint that Splinter may be looming. As quietly as he could he gathered the tapes of Leo’s favorite show and ran back to his twin.

“Raph?” Leo grinned, confused but flattered. He rolled his eyes, putting the box down next to the cooler. “There’s no way I’m going to listen to you bitch about missing ‘ Captain Ryan’ or whatever.” Raph huffed and crossed his arms, ignoring the genuine smile on his brother’s face. 

The moment passed and they both agreed to just wait, in the meantime they could talk specifics. Raph and Leo felt they could breathe easier with a plan in place for either outcome. Both turtles knew that in the end, Donnie wouldn’t fight moving too much. But it was the ‘going to another world’ that might be harder to sell. They’d have to take Timmy, of course, and Donnie’s backup harddrives. But if the other Donnie was anything like theirs, then they were sure their Donnie would be back up and experimenting in no time. 

The lair was eerily quiet while they waited. To ignore it Ralph started a new project, and Leo sorted through his comics.

“Should I bring a few? I can always find new comics… and if we end up just moving out to April’s farmhouse we could sneak back for the rest.” Leo spoke more to himself than his brother. Raph thought about the stacks of comics in his own room, and the various copies of untouched volumes remaining in Mikey’s room. Maybe they could start new collections wherever they ended up, maybe even find some new hobbies. 

“Well… I, for one, vote to find something new to do. Donnie could do tech things, Mikey’s good with music… You can cook.” Raph rearranged his box, making extra space for a special item he noticed Leo had left out. “I don’t have much going for me, aside from my knitting. But maybe we could just… chill? Not be so concerned about saving the world while wasting away our childhood? We could be… ‘normal’ teens.” He air-quoted. 

Leo leaned on the wall, sliding down it to sit. The leader folded his hands, leaning against them to process his brother’s words. Ever since they were children, they had been trained to ‘defend the Hamato name’, thinking back on it it all just seemed like Splinter trying to force his ideals on the young mutants. 

Raph chewed on the non-toxic “chewelry” that Donnie made for him back when he first got his braces. He was glad Leo had one stored away for him, all his others had been shredded on some of his harder nights. Raph took care to not chew too hard on this one, trying to keep this one in good shape for as long as possible. 

Donnie would flip out, he was sure of that. There would be yelling, fighting, maybe a week of silence before he would come to terms with whatever option they went with. Raph would need to make this chewie last until his brother would make him a new one. Luckily the ache subsided quickly, allowing him to place the piece into his bag. 

“Have you heard from Donnie?” Leo piped up from his spot on the floor, only needing to move his arm forward slightly to nudge Raph. Small room perks, he mused. Raph merely grunted, moving to sit by the wall across from Leo. Their feet pressed together, reminding them of how they used to try and stretch as far as possible when they were younger. They would sit across from each other and test to see how much they had grown. Then Leo hit his growth spurt and suddenly Raph didn’t want to do it anymore. 

Raph laughed wistfully, so caught up in his reminiscing that he hadn’t noticed Leo sorting through his comics. Raphael was content to just watch his brother do his thing, sit there and soak up the peace. He wondered how long it would be before they got another moment of just comfortable silence. 

It wasn’t long before Donnie and Other Mikey came through the entrance, the former’s iconic sigh cut through the silence. A quiet conversation that only consisted of one voice echoed clearly through the stillness of the lair.

The voices faded as the doors to the lab opened and shut. This was it, Raph and Leo were mere seconds away from their future. They had fought in battles that they weren’t sure they’d survive, they’d lived through Splinter’s training, but now? Talking to their brother was one of the scariest things they’d yet to face. They remained glued to the floor, Raph’s hands flexed and unflexed while Leo kept opening his mouth to talk- only to stop at the last second. 

“We should probably-”

“Yeah, maybe we should…” 

They both looked at each other, then the door. Would Splinter be lurking outside the door? Would Donnie scream at them for their idea and kick them out to be dealt with by the rat? They had no way of knowing until they just

- - - - - - - -

POV: 2012 Mikey

Day: 1

“So… We wanted tah know whatchu thought- now that yer calm ‘n whatnot.” Raph sat on the floor in front of him, slouching to appear smaller. The brothers had come back into the living room, openly discussing ideas in front of him, giving him the chance to pipe up and add his thoughts. April whispered something to D that made him smirk. 

“I’ve been thinking it over… And I… I don’t wanna go back. I wanna stay here, do something new…” He paused, stroking his chin in thought, “Like learn how to cook properly!” He exclaimed, ignoring the startled looks on the brother’s faces. 

“You can’t cook for yourself?” ‘Nardo asked. 

“Well- To be fair ‘Nardo, you can only make tamales .” D piped up from his beanbag nestled in the corner. ‘Nardo huffed dramatically and crossed his arms.

“Mikey and I were learning to make pan dulce for gramgram’s ofrenda a few days ago!” His hip cocked to the side, a teasing smirk that betrayed his offended tone. Mikey tilted his head to the side, “What’s an ofrenda ?” ‘Nardo lit up, finally it was his turn to info-dump. 

“Basically, an ofrenda is a shrine from hispanic culture. Me and my brothers-” 

“My brothers and I.” D corrected.

“ Me and my brothers were setting one up due to it almost being Dia De Muertos .” Noticing Mikey’s growing confusion he added, “Day of the dead. A day for celebrating those before us and remembering their story. Our Mikey was looking for a recipe for sugar skulls- calaveras de azucar -  before the switch happened.” ‘Nardo happily answered any of Mikey’s questions, never once complaining when Mikey needed him to repeat part of what he said before Mikey could fully process what he said.

Eventually April took over, returning with pizza and offering him some cooking lessons. Mikey was thrilled to be presented with more of the amazing pizza and lessons he’s always wanted.

- - - - - - -

In the spirit of the season Raph, ‘Nardo, and D joined in to learn how to make some traditional dishes for Dia De Muertos . Pan De Muertos, guacamole, tamales , and they started on some chicken Pozole that had to be slow cooked. By the end of it they had some not half-bad dishes, and the lot of them were very proud of what they had accomplished. 

Of course all the talk of ‘traditional’ meals got Splinter’s attention, and even though it took some time to warm up to him, Mikey found himself enjoying talking about dishes to make to satisfy Splinter’s cravings for his childhood meals. April nodded thoughtfully and suggested they make her mother’s cheesy broccoli casserole, or her dad’s homemade mac n’ cheese to which D practically sprung at. 

“YES- I mean, that would be a good dish to learn. Or what about your grandma’s candied yams?” D feigned disinterest, but ‘Nardo smirked knowingly. April laughed along with Raph and they discussed meals to make. So many ideas were thrown around that Splinter ended up making a list.

“As fun as it has been to discuss meal ideas we should probably get new Mikey his own room to stay in…” D scratched his chin thoughtfully, before snapping his fingers. 

“A-hah!” He said dramatically, “The old subway lair!” He marched out of the kitchen, leaving the rest to follow. The brothers lit up and followed quickly, Mikey hot on their heels.

His own room? He was thrilled to bits, but a bit overwhelmed at all this newness. He was grateful to be getting somewhere he could decompress for a bit. Well, until it was time to get everyone back. The more he thought, the more his heart ached for his brothers. He was determined to convince them to come over with him- They could live how they always wanted to, only fighting when THEY chose to! His brothers would get a chance to heal, and Mikey would get more of those soft moments he craved from his brothers. 

They stopped after only a few moments of walking down a lit tunnel, and the gaggle of mutants, and April, proudly presented the converted subway train. Mikey flapped his hands happily as he approached the train, it was covered in cool (and tasteful) graffiti. He noticed how the style matched the art in the room he woke in. Inside the train had been fitted to house the brothers. He didn’t know the story behind the train’s conversion to a home- but at the moment he couldn’t care less. 

“Down that way is a bathroom- don’t ask how we got that one working - and down the other way is a dining room of sorts.” The brothers explained that they got the lair back into shape quickly enough that they didn’t need to make an actual kitchen, and that Mikey was free to use theirs. 

All the talk of him staying here reminded him of what he wanted to bring up to the kind people that had so quickly taken him in.

“I was actually wondering…” He started, anxiety threatened to swallow him up- but he was determined to ask. All eyes were on him as he spoke. He was so close, all he had to do was

[coneygoil]

Save the Day, part 20

Summary: Litwak is gone, and the arcade will be emptied soon. They have to leave, or game over would be their fate forever. What will the core four find outside the walls of the only home they’ve ever known? 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 |Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

Writer’s note: Welp, I haven’t updated this fic since Oct. 2015. I can’t believe it’s been THAT long. I hated the fact that I got this far and never finished, so I’m gonna try to complete it. It’s been so long I doubt anyone remembers it lol.

Fix-It hopped over fallen trees, pixelated leaves and wood pieces scattered everywhere. A mangled bench sat by the lake along with a lamppost that was bent in two. Fix-It followed the sound of trees being pulverized, coming upon Wreck-It busy at using his giant fists.

“Come back to play, Ralphie-boy?” he remarked.

Wreck-It straightened to his full height, his face twisted in anger. “I’ve come to do a lot more than that.”

“And what would that be?”

“To take you down.”

“You think you can take me down alone in my own game?” Fix-It sneered, readying the stun-gun. “You’re sadly mistaken.”

“Who said he was alone, junior?” a voice resembling Wreck-It’s filed up from behind Fix-It. The other Ralph cracked his knuckles. “Let’s play.”

***

Sergeant Calhoun stared at the metal ceiling, a battle of willpower playing out in her head. She’d fought the good side of herself for so long, burying it under piles and piles of rage, but somehow that tiny gleam of light seemed to find a way to beam through.

Calhoun shut her eyes tightly, balling hands into fists, the sensation almost becoming too much to bear. A guttural sound ripped from her throat, and she bolted upright, swinging her fist into the wall. Her knuckle cracked painfully as the metal vibrated from the blow.

“It’s eatin’ atcha, isn’t it, T.J.?”

She growled at the voice. She’d almost forgotten that Kohut was her neighbor in this hellhole. “I don’t want to hear your mumbo-jumbo, Corporeal.”

A chuckle emitted from the cell next door. “You’re so close to letting go. Stop fighting it.”

Calhoun’s mouth open to fling another biting retort when a disruption echoed through the cellblock. She grabbed the bars, angling her head to find the best view. Shouts and struggling was cut abruptly to short. A long moment passed before a figure appeared, and Calhoun felt like she was looking into a mirror. The other Calhoun’s eyes widened just slightly as their gazes met.

“It is true that my doppelganger has been raising hell.”

“Raising hell to save this arcade,” the doppelganger corrected. She stepped up to the bars, glaring through hooded eyes. “Fix-It turn on you?”

Calhoun growled, rage flowing through her code at the mention of the tyrant. “Little punk doesn’t know who he messed with. When I get my hands on Fix-It, he’s going to wish he’d never been plugged in.”

All the bars on the cellblock slid open simultaneously. Kohut walked out of his cell, pausing at the sight of two Calhouns. He shook his head, murmuring to himself. “Double trouble if I ever seen any.”

“T.J.,” a new voice entered the cellblock, and Calhoun snapped her head around to stare face to face with Brad. He looked relieved, almost smiling. He should have known better.

Calhoun stormed at him in zero seconds, slamming her fist into his face. Brad’s glassed flew off, sliding along the floor, the frame most likely twisted. “How dare you show your face after what you did,” she spat.

Brad wiggled his jaw then looked at Calhoun with the utmost calm. “I deserved that.”

Calhoun drew her fist back. “You deserve a lot worse.”

“There’s no time for this!” the doppelganger wedged between them. “We need to move. Now.”

Kohut handed Brad his mangled glasses as they exited the cellblock. “Hey, doc.”

Brad nodded in thanks. “Kohut.”

***

“Do you think he changed the code since you’ve been disassociated?” Felix asked Pauline as he tossed open the Niceland Apartments lobby door.

“I hope not,” Pauline replied, giving him a worried glance as they rushed down to the basement. Pauline knew the two Ralphs couldn’t possibly hold off her husband for long. Fix-It had far too many devious ideas in keeping people at bay.

As they made their way to the code room, Felix slowed as they passed a prison cell, his featured horrified. “Was this where he kept-”

Pauline frowned. “Ralph.” She met his shocked gaze. “But thankfully not anymore.”

They moved forward, finding the code room at the end of a short hall. Pauline stepped up to the keypad. Taking a deep breath, she tapped in the entrance code and waited-

“It’s not opening,” Felix said, worry escalating in his voice.

“And it won’t.” They spun around to find Gene standing there in all his disgusting smugness. “Felix changed it after your little betrayal, you she-devil. The only one who knows the code besides Felix is,” a wicked smirk spread on Gene’s face as he swirled his martini, “me.”

“Oh really?” Pauline glared. “Give it to us.”

Gene scoffed. “When pigs fly.”

Pauline took an impending step forward, her fists balled at her sides. She’d had enough of this mess. “This pig is about to learn how.”

@kittysfigurines24 @ask-icancraft-it

[365daysofj2]

The New Guy Tops (Museum!Boys, NC-17, 3/?)

“You want another hot cocoa?” asks Jared as Jensen snuggles up under his arm.

“I want a warm car,” replies Jensen, stretching one arm across Jared’s back and burying it in his coat pocket. “And after that, a warm bed. Preferably with you in it.”

Jared chuckles, his breath visible in the chilly evening air. It’s only a little after 7:00, but it’s been dark for hours already. “One more ride on the pirate ship and then we can go to the car.”

Jensen sighs a plume of steam into the air. “Fine.”

Jared pulls Jensen’s wool beanie down over his earlobes. “But you’re having a good time, right?”

“I’d be having a better time if I could feel my toes.”

Jared kisses Jensen’s forehead. “You’re a good sport.”

They get in line for the pirate ship and climb up to the very back row. Jensen’s practically in Jared’s lap, he’s sitting so close. When the ride starts up, Jensen presses himself even closer, and Jared covers Jensen’s hands with his own around the safety bar.

Even though Jared’s probably ridden on the pirate ship about 300 times since moving to Hershey, his breath still catches when they hit the very top of the arc. It’s one of his favorite rides still, all these years later.

Jensen’s teeth are chattering by the time they get off, so Jared quickly steers him in the direction of the parking lot. By the time they wind all around the parking lot exit lane and actually get out on Hersheypark Drive, the heat has actually warmed up enough to be useful. It’s on full blast, but Jensen’s still shivering.

“You wanna grab some food or something?”

“Or s-s-something.” Jensen pulls off his gloves and holds his hands right over the vents. “Let’s just go back to your place. You can make us some tea before I crawl under every single cover you have.”

Jared rubs Jensen’s knee. “Okay, sounds like a plan.”

They get home around ten minutes later. Jensen hurries inside when Jared unlocks the door and sheds his winter outerwear in favor of wrapping Jared’s fleece Penn State blanket around him from shoulder to knee. Jared fills up the kettle and puts it on the stove to heat. Then he takes off his own outerwear and hangs it up in the coat closet before rescuing Jensen’s stuff from the couch and putting it away as well.

Jared slides in next to Jensen and wraps an arm around Jensen’s blanket-clad shoulders. He kisses Jensen’s cheek, which is so cold that he’s afraid his lips will freeze to it. Shit, Jensen really is cold. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “We shouldn’t have stayed out so long. I didn’t realize.”

“‘S okay,” replies Jensen. “I feel better now.”

The kettle starts to whistle. Jared puts sugar cookie teabags in two snowman mugs and fills them up with boiling water. After letting them steep for a couple minutes, he removes the teabags and takes the mugs into the living room.

Jensen holds his right up to his frozen face and lets the steam curl around his nose and cheeks. Jared holds his mug in both hands, relishing the heat on his own chilled fingers. Winter this year has been a real roller coaster—one week it’s sixty degrees and sunny, the next it’s twenty degrees and so cloudy that dusk occurs around two o’clock.

They start drinking their tea once it cools off a little, and Jensen’s cheeks are slowly starting to regain color. He’s still wrapped up like a mummy in the blue and white blanket, but his fingernails have lost the slight bluish tinge they had just a few minutes ago, so Jared figures he’ll be okay.

Once they finish the tea, Jared puts the mugs in the dishwasher and collects Jensen from the couch. “You know what would really warm you up right now?” he asks with a coy smirk.

Jensen’s eyes widen. “I…could be up for that, I guess.”

“I promise, you’ll be sweating in no time.”

Jensen’s cheeks pink up at that, which is fucking adorable. He gestures toward Jared’s pathetic excuse for a hallway. “Lead the way.”

Jared turns the light on in his room and turns the bed down. He pulls the blanket off Jensen’s shoulders and tosses it on the top of the dresser before shedding his own sweater and flannel shirt. Jensen does the same, piling his sweater vest and button-down shirt on top of the discarded blanket. Jared steps out of his jeans and throws them in the hamper. Jensen’s cheeks turn even redder as he does the same.

Jared turns on the bedside lamp and turns off the overhead light. He grasps Jensen’s wrists and gently guided him to the bed. “You’ve done this before, right?”

Jensen bites his lip. “Yeah, in college. Just—not for a while.”

Jared opens the nightstand drawer to reveal a bottle of lube and condoms. “As a former Boy Scout, I am always prepared.” He kisses Jensen’s flushed cheek. “Relax. We’ll take it slow. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Jensen nods, looking down at the floor. Jared sits down on the bed and tugs Jensen down onto his lap. He presses his lips to Jensen’s jaw and starts kissing a trail down his neck to the hollow of his throat, where he grazes his teeth over the sensitive skin to elicit a breathy moan from Jensen. Jared lies back on the bed and uses his legs to lever Jensen up onto the mattress with him. Jensen ends up on the far side of the bed, one ankle hooked around Jared’s knee, and quickly separates from him.

Jared curls a hand around the back of Jensen’s neck and brushes his lips over Jensen’s. “Relax, baby. This is all about you.”

“‘M sorry,” mutters Jensen. “You must think I’m a total freak.”

Jared shakes his head and lightly strokes Jensen’s jaw with his thumb. “You don’t have much experience with men, do you?”

Jensen shakes his head sadly. “I wasn’t out till my junior year of college, and you know how college guys are…I never had a serious boyfriend, just ‘friends with benefits’ and quick fucks in the locker room.”

“What sport did you play?”

Jensen’s cheeks turn a deep crimson. “Cheerleading.”

Jared smiles softly and kisses the tip of Jensen’s nose. “No shame in that. I bet you looked hot in that little uniform.”

“I doubt that. We wore loose pants and short-sleeved sweaters.”

Jared shakes his head. “You’re no fun at all.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jared traces a finger down Jensen’s sternum to his navel. “I just wanna know what you like.”

“Bottom,” whispers Jensen. “That’s how I…that’s all I’ve ever done.”

“Is that all you want to do?”

Jensen sucks in a sharp breath. “I’ve always wanted to try topping.”

Jared nods and smiles in what he hopes is an encouraging way. “Then go ahead.” He reaches into the drawer and hands Jensen a condom and lube. “Just because I’m bigger doesn’t mean I like to top. I’m happier being on the bottom, to be honest.”

Jensen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You? Really?”

“Really.” Jared rolls onto his back. “I’m all yours, baby.”

Jensen gives him a half-hearted smile. He unwraps the condom and slowly rolls it over his dick before uncapping the lube and spreading a generous amount onto his fingers. He circles one fingertip around Jared’s hole until Jared nods to egg him on. Then he slips the finger in with the utmost care. “That’s it,” murmurs Jared, not wanting to seem unsupportive or uninvolved. “Just like that.”

Jensen pirouettes his finger around the inside of Jared’s hole, finally adding another just when Jared’s about to lose it from the teasing. He slicks Jared’s hole with the utmost care, and Jared bites back the instinct to demand he go faster. It’s Jensen’s night—Jared’s just along for the ride.

Jensen adds a third finger and starts to scissor, reluctant at first but picking up speed as he becomes more confident. “Yeah, yeah. Jus’ like that,” Jared encourages him.

Jensen slicks his own latex-sheathed dick with lube and enters Jared’s waiting hole with an almost painful hesitation. Jared just relaxes himself and breathes deeply through his nose. It’s Jensen’s show; it’s not Jared’s place to stage-manage him.

Jensen pushes further in, getting just past the ring of muscle before pulling out and starting to thrust. He establishes a rhythm that’s fair but not punishing, and Jared finds himself digging his fingers into the mattress for support. Jensen’s not half-bad at this, really.

It’s not long before Jared’s headboard starts to tap a drumbeat against his bedroom wall. Jensen’s fucking him with…well, not confidence, exactly, but determination for sure. Jared’s got his legs wrapped around Jensen’s shoulders and Jensen certainly doesn’t seem chilled anymore. In fact, beads of sweat from his forehead are starting to drip onto Jared’s abs. He doesn’t mind, though. He’s completely recovered from the wintry ordeal as well. Jensen’s sweat mingles with his own, and the sheets are damp beneath them, to the point that Jared may have to change them after this.

Jensen’s breathing changes, and that’s when Jared knows he’s getting close. He digs his heels into Jensen’s back, urging him on, and Jensen hits home for the first time, making Jared’s spine tingle with pleasure. “Yeah, yeah, like that,” Jared gasps, and Jensen hits home again. Jared drops his head back and Jensen grazes his teeth against the taut skin of Jared’s throat, and that’s it for him. He comes with a drawn-out groan all over Jensen’s abs. Jensen thrusts a few more times and then comes with a shout, collapsing onto Jared’s chest and extracting his now-softening dick from Jared’s hole with a supreme effort.

Jared rolls Jensen off of him and onto the mattress to catch his breath. Jensen slumps down next to him, panting like a marathon runner, and slides a hand across Jared’s stomach. Jensen nestles his head between Jared’s neck and shoulder and sighs happily. “Wow, that was…that was incredible.”

“Yeah, it was,” agrees Jared, not exactly truthfully. But it’s Jensen’s night, and he’s more than willing to fudge a little if it makes Jensen happy.

Jensen gives Jared’s ear a sloppy kiss. “You’re the best.”

“Right back atcha.” Jared twines his fingers with Jensen’s and pulls his arm over his shoulder so that Jensen’s spooning him. “You warm enough?”

“I’ll say,” replies Jensen, laughing a little. “You were right. About everything.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” Jared pulls the sheet up over them both and turns off the lamp. “I’ll make waffles tomorrow if you’re stayin’.”

Jensen kisses the back of Jared’s neck. “Now how could I refuse an offer like that?”

Jared grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“I’m stayin’,” murmurs Jensen sleepily. “In fact, you might never get rid o’me.”

Jared waits until Jensen’s asleep before replying, “I could live with that.”

[wrecklessimagine]

Taken Aback

thanks for opening your requests!! so i had this idea (and i hope you understand it) where hotch fake spencer's death (just like emily) and y/n is really heartbroken. what spencer didn't know is that this y/n died while he was gone so when he came back he was angry and stuff because they were really close. sorry for my bad english x

You are completely fine, I understood what you were saying!  Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha.

The world stopped.

Everything was moving so slowly, like molasses through jello in a pool of...

...something.

You sat there in the hospital, covered in his blood, as Hotch continued to talk.

“...the doctors did what they could,” you heard.

“...there was just so much blood loss,” he said.

Could you wring it out of your shirt?

Could they scrape it off of your hands?

Surely you were carrying enough of his blood to-...

...to...

Oh, hell.

You stand at his funeral.  Spencer.  Your partner.  You friend.

Your best friend.

The only person who understood you.  You cared for you.  Who picked up your calls at 3 AM and was never bothered with being woken because, like you, he had not gone to sleep yet.

He promised he would never leave you.

“You promised,” you whisper as you watch his casket lower into the ground.

And the sky cried along with you as you watched your only friend become one with the ground.

You quit your job.

You moved out of your apartment.

You cashed in your pensions and assets and emptied your bank account.

You canceled your cards and tossed your phone.

You were done with the BAU.

Done with DC.

You wanted to drive.

Drive until you were compelled to stop.

But you hit a corner too fast.

You hit a corner too tired.

And you careened into the guard-rail and flipped down the mountain.

And your money poured from the windows of your car as you closed your eyes and sighed heavily.

“Oh, Spencer,” you whispered before your car crunched to the ground.

Now, it was Spencer standing at your grave.

Now, it was Spencer cursing you for leaving him.

“You promised,” he croaked out as Hotch put a hand on his shoulder.

But he shrugged it off in anger.

“I told you to tell her,” Spencer bites.

“We couldn’t risk it-” Hotch begins.

“It killed her, Hotch!” Spencer shrieks as he turns towards his boss, “It killed her!”

It was very rare that the team saw their steadfast chief flinch.

But he did at those words.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could offer.

And Spencer scoffed and walked away.

“She promised, damn it!” he yells as he walks towards his car.

He couldn’t handle it.

His father.

Maeve.

Gideon.

His mother’s memory.

You.

So when he ducked down into his car, he reached for his badge, his credentials, and his gun...

...and he threw them in a puddle as the sky cried alongside him.